


Nighttime Diplomacy

by Anonymous



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Clothed Sex, Cunnilingus, F/M, Quiet Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Smut, Throne Sex, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 07:00:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29913150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Malika Cadash is many things: a skilled smugger, an unforeseen leader, and a great appreciator of a good feast. What she isn’t, though, is a patient diplomat, no matter how hard she tries. Luckily, a nightly encounter with the King turns out to be much less formal than she feared.
Relationships: Alistair/Female Cadash (Dragon Age)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 4
Collections: Nobody Expects the Dragon Age Smutquisition





	Nighttime Diplomacy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [acrononymous](https://archiveofourown.org/users/acrononymous/gifts).



Malika Cadash is many things: a skilled smugger, an unforeseen leader, and a great appreciator of a good feast. What she isn’t, though, is a patient diplomat, no matter how hard she tries.

The Inquisition’s trip to Ferelden on the behest of their king had always been bound to be challenging for her in that regard. There are only so many hours she can make polite small-talk with nobles, even if king Alistair himself is a pleasant exception to their usual stuffiness.

After a little while, she simply had to make an exit, but instead of going back to the guest quarters, she finds herself wandering the castle. Most of the servants are busy running the welcoming banquet, leaving the rest of the castle mostly dark and surprisingly quiet. 

Aimlessly, Malika walks. The few guards she passes seem to be apprised about who she is and let her pass wherever she wants. Curiosity leads her from room to room until she finds herself in one that is surprisingly large.

It is mostly dark, but from the few burning torches on the walls, she can see there are elaborate tapestries hanging in-between, some fancy-looking paintings, and a long, expensive-looking carpet stretches through the entire room. It looks overall both impressive and inviting, and a moment later, she sees the elaborate throne, elevated on a few steps above the rest of the room, and she knows where she is.

“Missing your throne and come to admire mine?”

The familiar voice rips Malika out of her thoughts as she whirls around to find none other than the king himself behind her.

“Your Majesty,” she greets automatically, and to her surprise, he winces slightly.

“Ah, leave the formalities behind, please,” he says with a half-smile as he steps closer. “Unless you want me to address you as your Inquisitorialness.”

There is a spark of humor in his eyes, and Malika’s eyes widen at the unexpected informality. This was not quite what Josephine had instilled in her about interactions with foreign dignitaries. But then again, it seems much more comfortable to her than all the practiced stuffiness.

“‘Inqisitorialness’...” she says with raised eyebrows before she shakes her head at the ridiculous word. “Fine then, Alistair. If it ensures that I won’t ever be called _that_.”

“No guarantees,” the king, no, Alistair responds with a grin. 

It seems like her earlier impression was the right one, and he is much less into the whole protocol thing that he should be. Then they both should be. It is a welcome relief.

“No, I am not missing my throne,” Malika answers his earlier question. “Though if we are going to compare, yours seems unusually decadent. For Ferelden sensibilities.” She eyes the impressive size of it and the elaborate gold-plated decorations on the top and sides.

“According to notes my father left behind, it was a statement for negotiations with Orlais,” Alistair explains with a shrug.

It’s a surprisingly logical explanation from what she has learned about the tensions between the two countries, but it’s also a terribly boring one.

“I see, and here I thought your people just expect you to grow indefinitely,” Malika quips. “Could have been a human thing for all I know.”

“Pff,” Alistair lets out an undignified snort. “Please, Lady Cadash, I know for a fact that you’ve spent your entire life among humans; don’t pretend you know nothing about us.”

“If I can’t call you your majesty, then you can’t call me a lady,” she shoots back. “It’s Malika. And sometimes messing with humans is the most fun I can have in the Inquisition.” She grins at him widely. “You should have seen Cassandra’s face when I asked if humans who are afraid of heights just crawl everywhere.”

He laughs out loud at that, and for a moment, Malika is thrown by just how handsome he looks when he laughs. All the sternness of the monarch that he is seems completely gone. When his eyes find hers, they are sparking with appreciation.

“You are absolutely delightful,” he said, and it sounds like such an honest compliment Malika has to swallow for a moment, trying to ignore the slight flush of her cheeks.

“I think you’d better stop doing this,” she says almost without thinking, and Alistair tilts his head as he smiles at her.

“What? Telling you how wonderful you are?”

His voice still holds the same honest appreciation and only furthers her blush.

“The flirting!” Malika insists, thinking back to how he had already complimented her during their dinner. It had been much more subtle than this was now, but it had been there already. “You might despise titles but you  _ are _ a king, and Josephine doesn’t get tired of reminding me I have to keep up appearances as well.”

“Is that your only objection to it? Status and appearances?” Alistair gives her a curious look before he lets out a sigh of relief. “Thank the Maker!”

“What?” Malika asks in confusion.

“Here, I thought you might genuinely not enjoy my attention.” A wide grin is all over his face before he shrugs apologetically. “There are not many people around that are not in some way beholden to me. Your acquaintance has been…” He pauses briefly as if to look for just the right words before he finishes, “a welcome one.”

With a little shake of her head in disbelief, Malia looks up at him.

“You are way too charming for your own good,” she murmurs.

“Am I now?” Alistair is directly in front of her now, and she has to tilt her head to keep looking at his face. 

“You look as tense as I am most of the time,” he murmurs in a low voice. “Think about how nice some distraction might be.”

“Distraction?” Malika gets out as she realizes that this is actually happening. That the king of Ferelden is standing in front of her, blatantly propositioning her. And that she is more than a little intrigued. 

“Oh!”

He holds out his hand, and any thought about the Inquisition and Josephine’s approval fly out of the nearest window as she looks at his inviting smile and takes it.

Alistair takes a step back, not letting go of her hand, leaving her no choice but to follow. Her eyes widen as he comes to a halt right in front of the throne. His touch is light but insistent as he turns them around, and a moment later, she finds herself sitting on it, overlooking the darkened, empty throne room. 

With a sly smile, Alistair sinks down to his knees in front of her, and his large hands run over her sides, down to her legs. He barely nudges her before she spreads them, giving him enough space to move closer, and then his lips are on hers.

Like this, he is at the perfect height for her to kiss, and Malika moans as his tongue starts exploring her mouth. She can’t even remember when she had last been kissed so thoroughly, and her arms close around his neck as she buries her hands into his hair. It is soft underneath her fingers.

Alistair’s hands feel warm through the soft fabric of her dress as he runs them up her back, pressing her closer.

“I’ve had trouble keeping my eyes off you the entire evening,” he murmurs in between kisses before his hand cups her breast, teasing her nipple to hardness through the fabric until Malika lets out a moan.

“How scandalous!” Malika laughs.

The part of her that has been drilled into a semblance of decorum by Josephine and Vivienne knows how easy it would be to cause a diplomatic incident. The rest of her is thoroughly unconcerned about that, though.

“Tell me then, your majesty,” she teases, “now that you have me here, what are you planning to do? Perhaps we can come to a diplomatic understanding.”

Alistair grabs her hips and pulls her closer to him with a small growl. The slightly rougher gesture sends a thrill of heat through her as he speaks in a low voice.

“As you so aptly noticed, this throne is decadently big; I propose to make use of that.”

“That sounds agreeable,” Malika replies in her best negotiator voice. “And how are we going to go about it? Anything you want to bring to the table?”

Alistair gives her an amused look. “I was thinking about simply fucking you on my throne,” he says bluntly and with a raspiness to his voice that makes her swallow and sends a tingle of excitement directly between her legs. His smile gets wider as he adds, “But if you prefer a table, we can always just find another spot.”

The room is empty, save for the two of them, but Malika knows there are guards patrolling the entire castle at night.

“Someone could find out,” she remarks.

“Then you’d better be really quiet,” is all she gets as a reply, and Malika feels herself tremble in anticipation.

With the Inquisition being what it is, her need for keeping up appearances, and her tightly packed schedule, she hadn’t had a decent opportunity for sex since before the conclave. Not to mention with someone she actually finds attractive. Her lips part as she licks them and draws in a deep breath.

“Let’s see if you can give me any reason to try and stay quiet then,” she challenges him with a grin, and the smile on Alistair’s face turns into a self-assured grin.

“I wouldn’t worry about that,” he says as he drags her hips to the edge of the throne, and then his hands are underneath the skirt of her dress, running up the insides of her thighs without hesitation. He brushes over her center, causing her to gasp before he unceremoniously reaches for her undergarments and pulls them down her legs. 

Alistair doesn’t seem to want to waste any time as he lifts her skirt up and spreads her legs further apart before he, with a wink, dives between her thighs.

Malika bites the inside of her cheek as he parts her folds with his tongue, and his lips close around her clit. A stifled moan leaves her nonetheless as his tongue teases her mercilessly, sending hot streaks of desire through her. 

Her fingers clench around the elaborately decorated armrests of the throne, and she throws her head back as he adds gentle sucking movements. Quiet. She needs to stay quiet. It would do neither of them any good if they were discovered, yet the thought alone makes everything all the more exciting.

Alistair hums against her heated flesh. It’s a soft but deep noise of appreciation, and Malika can barely believe the sight in front of her. Here she is, sitting on the Maker-damned throne of the king of Ferelden, with said king’s mouth between her legs, overlooking the entire throne-rooms as his tongue brings her closer and closer to the edge.

It sounds almost too abrupt to be true, and yet the toe-curling pleasure running through her tells her it undoubtedly is. 

When she feels his fingers circle her entrance once before two of them slowly push inside her, Malika can’t quite stifle the low moan that escapes her. Alistair knows what he is doing, and when he curls his fingers just right a moment later, she feels herself tipping over, her hands clenching the armrests as she presses her lips together and falls silently apart under his touch.

She is still catching her breath, about to say something, when she catches sight of him. Alistair pulls a bit away from her, and when he looks up, her breath gets stuck in her throat as he licks her slick off his fingers with a pleased moan.

Not even fully calmed down, Malika feels her arousal be right back at the sight, and she is about to demand more when she hears the unmistakable noise of armor moving. The guards making their rounds.

She freezes, but Alistair sends her a devious grin before putting a finger over his lips. He gets up as quietly as possible, and for a moment, Malika thinks he is about to lead them out of the room and somewhere more private, perhaps. Her eyes widen when instead, he carefully frees his length from his breeches.

She gasps softly as she watches him stroke himself once. She has been with humans before, but none of them had been quite as well built, and the thought of taking all of that inside of her makes her almost whimper from desire. Without thought, she leans forward until she is close enough to run her tongue over the tip of his cock.

She revels in the shudder that goes through Alistair, a grin on her face as she looks up at him. Malika has to stretch her lips impossibly wide to close them around his length, and her tongue dips into the slit, tasting him before she takes a bit more of him into her mouth. She has to stop sooner than she wants, afraid that any choking noise she might make would give them away. Her heart is beating faster when she hears the steps of the patrolling guards again as they do their obligatory brief check of every room on the corridor.

Alistair’s hand is at her cheek, and with a smile, he nudges her to draw back. With a soft pop, he slips out of her mouth, and a moment later, his hands are on her, and he lifts her up like she weighs nothing at all and turns them until he can sit down and place her on his lap.

“Shh,” he murmurs into her ear. “Don’t make a sound. They won’t come inside if the room sounds quiet from the doorway.”

Malika nods quietly, trying to keep her breathing slow enough, so it doesn't get too loud. She can feel him hard and wanting against her ass, and she bites down her lip at the thought of just how compromising their situation is. The king that refuses to take a wife with the Inquisitor with the shady past in his lap. And on his throne in the dead of night, waiting like two thieves in the dark for the air to clear.

Only Alistair seems not content to do all that much waiting. His hands are on her hips, and he lifts her, and then she feels his cock drag through her slick. He feels impossibly big against her, but she is so dripping wet for him he has no trouble slowly pushing inside of her.

Malika barely manages to hold back the deep groan that wells up in her at the feeling of him stretching her wider than she ever has been before. He lowers her slowly, dragging the sensation out. Malika scrambles to reach for the armrests again, to hold onto something, anything really. He loosens his hold on her to let her sink all the way down on her own, and she feels so full she wants to shout in delight.

The back of the throne is towards the door she hears the guards from, and she knows that if they only check superficially, they won’t see them. Any noise, though, would give them away instantly, and so Malika swallows and tries her hardest to be completely quiet as Alistair lifts her up once more. He pulls her down again in one strong move, and she nearly sees stars. He feels impossibly big inside her, hitting all the right spots. 

Behind them, she hears the door open.

The guards are quietly talking to each other, but what they are saying, she can't hear. Not over the sounds of her heart beating furiously, as their proximity doesn’t seem to faze Alistair even a little bit. He keeps moving her up and down his cock like they have all the time and privacy in the world, and Malika can do nothing but hold on and try not to give them away as she goes nearly mad from the sheer pleasure he gives her.

When he slightly changes the angle, a needy whimper leaves her mouth. It is soft, but it’s enough, it seems. A moment later, Alistair’s hand is on her mouth, pressing down firmly to keep her from making any further sounds as his other arm wraps around her waist, holding her steady, and then he bucks up into her with a force that makes her nearly scream. 

Dimly she hears someone give the all-clear before the door closes again, and a moment later, his hand around her waist shifts to slip between her legs. She holds on to the armrests to push herself up in tandem with his thrusts, and the moment his fingers hit her clit, something in her snaps.

All the tension flows over, sending bursts of heated pleasure through her body as she comes for the second time, her noises of pleasure swallowed by his firm hand.

Alistair presses his mouth against her neck, groaning deeply into her skin as he thrusts up once more before he follows her, and she feels him spend himself inside her.

When the tension melts away, Malika sags back against his chest, a low moan on her lips as she realizes how big he still feels inside her, even after all this. 

“That was certainly something,” she lets out quietly as she tries to find her bearings.

“Hm,” Alistaris hums against her neck. “A shame about the public location. I am convinced you probably have a lovely voice when screaming in pleasure.”

At that, she has to laugh softly. “Well, you said you’d find me a table if I wanted one,” she says with a hint of mischief in her voice. “Make sure it comes with a locked door and find out!”

“I'll do you one better,” Alistair answers, and his voice is brimming with amusement. “A locked door and a large bed that comes with breakfast served in the morning.”

Malika draws in a deep breath at the offer and what taking her breakfast in his room would imply. It sounds like nothing short of a declaration of intent. She smiles as she turns her head to look at him.

“I take my morning coffee with milk and no sugar,” she says with a grin, and when he lets out a soft laugh before he kisses her, she feels her stomach flutter with unexpected possibilities before she lets herself be swept away.


End file.
